


Too Sexy for His Shirt

by RainyTea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Post-Series, crop tops, poor yakov, someone save him from these ridiculous people, way too many crop tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyTea/pseuds/RainyTea
Summary: An innocent Instagram post starts a chain reaction that may lead to Viktor's early demise.





	Too Sexy for His Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Just something to pay homage to the amazing Yuuri-in-crop-tops trend started by [zephyrine-gale](http://zephyrine-gale.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

It’s Phichit’s fault, really.

Phichit, the one who started it all. With a seemingly innocent #throwbackthursday Instagram post, just a selfie of Phichit and Yuuri during their college days in Detroit. In the picture they’re outdoors, presumably somewhere on campus. The sky is a bright blue and there are trees in bloom behind them; it looks like a warm spring day. Phichit’s got his arm slung around Yuuri’s shoulders, a big grin plastered on his face. Yuuri looks like he’s blushing, but he’s smiling as well. Just a normal picture of two friends enjoying time together. Nothing really remarkable about it. Except...

Except for what Yuuri’s wearing in the picture. That’s what sets the whole thing off, a chain reaction that leads to Viktor thinking that he probably won’t see his thirtieth birthday, because surely he’s going to die of heart failure before then.

Because Yuuri is wearing a crop top. It looks like a t-shirt with the college logo on it, hemmed up short so that it shows a few inches of Yuuri’s midriff. It’s not even that revealing. When Viktor sees the picture he thinks it’s cute. (It’s not the sort of thing Yuuri usually wears, but Viktor certainly doesn’t mind seeing his fiancé show some skin.) The picture’s popular, lots of likes, lots of comments, but that’s not too unusual. Yuuri’s got a lot of fans, especially after the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona. Yuuri has his own social media accounts but he doesn’t use them much; his fans figured out early on that their best bet was to follow Phichit’s (and Viktor’s) accounts.

Viktor asks Yuuri about the picture later that day, while Yuuri’s making dinner. “Oh,” Yuuri says, “that was... a couple of years ago I guess? They sold those in the campus bookstore. Phichit bought it for me as a joke, and then bet me that if I wore it to classes for a whole day that he’d clean the bathroom in our apartment for the next two weeks.” Yuuri looks up from the vegetables that he’s chopping and flashes a grin at Viktor. “I won,” he says. Viktor laughs.

He likes watching Yuuri cook; it’s so satisfyingly domestic. Viktor’s never been much of a cook himself, mostly relying on takeout and frozen things during the years that he lived alone. It’s not that he couldn’t have learned, there just never seemed to be much of a point to cooking for one. Yuuri says he likes cooking, though, and Viktor’s happy to let him. In exchange, Viktor insists on being the one to clean up afterwards. He figures it’s more than a fair deal.

“Do you still have the shirt?” Viktor asks.

“No, I think I left it behind when I moved back home.” Yuuri laughs. “I only wore it the one time, so I didn’t keep it with the rest of my clothes.”

“Mmmm, too bad. I wouldn’t mind seeing you wear something like that again,” Viktor says with a wink.

Yuuri snorts and tosses a piece of carrot at him.

 

* * *

 

Viktor doesn’t really think about the crop top picture again until about a week later. They’ve just arrived at the rink for the day, when one of the employees at the front desk waves Yuuri over and gives him a package. A lot of fan mail for the Russian skaters gets sent to the rink; Viktor’s certainly received his share over the years, mostly letters and requests for autographs (he always responds to these as long as a return envelope is provided) but also gifts. Now that Yuuri’s training in St. Petersburg he’s been getting fan mail here too.

Viktor peers curiously at the package in Yuuri’s hands as they head into the locker room. It’s one of those oversized shipping envelopes with a tear-off strip at the top. “Well, are you going to open it?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri shrugs and drops his bag on one of the benches, then opens the package. He peeks inside and pulls out a folded piece of fabric. He shakes it out and holds it up so they can both see it. “A tank top?” Yuuri says.

“It’s a crop top!” Viktor says delightedly. And then Yuuri turns it around, and they both burst out laughing.

Across the front of the shirt, in block letters that look like they were stencilled on with fabric paint, is the word “KATSUDAMN.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” Viktor says. “Yuuri, you have to wear it! Put it on right now!”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No way! I have to practice, and I’ll freeze out on the ice wearing something like this.”

“Nonsense. Mila wears stuff like that all the time and she doesn’t have a problem.” Viktor leans in and flutters his eyelashes at Yuuri. “Please? For me?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes in mock-exasperation. “Fine, but only because I know you won’t stop being ridiculous until I do.” He turns around and shucks off his coat and shirt, then pulls the crop top over his head. He turns back to Viktor, spreading his arms with a flourish. “Ta-daa.”

“Wow,” Viktor says softly, because katsu _ damn _ it looks good on him. Viktor’s always adored Yuuri’s powerful thighs and gorgeous rounded ass, but he feels like he’s never appreciated Yuuri’s perfectly toned abs as much as they deserve. Not to mention the way the tank top shows off Yuuri’s upper arms and collarbone. Viktor thinks that he would very much like to lick Yuuri’s collarbone. Right now.

Yuuri tilts his head. “Vitya? Are you okay?”

Viktor slowly nods, and licks his lips. “Yeah,” he breathes, “you just look, um, really good in that. Really good.” Yuuri laughs nervously and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. Except that the movement makes the crop top ride up even higher, exposing more of Yuuri’s taut belly, and Viktor’s brain short-circuits. Forget licking his collarbone, Viktor suddenly wants to drop to his knees and kiss every inch of Yuuri’s skin from navel to nipples.

“Katsudon, what the fuck are you wearing?” Viktor jumps at the loud voice from behind him.

“Hi Yurio,” Yuuri says.

“Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” Yurio plops down on one of the benches and starts lacing his skates on. “Seriously though, what’s with the weird shirt?”

Viktor tears his eyes away from Yuuri to grin at Yurio. “It’s a gift from a fan. Isn’t it cute?”

“No,” Yurio says.

“You clearly have no sense of fashion,” Viktor says. He pulls out his phone and snaps a few quick pictures of Yuuri.

“Vitya!” Yuuri protests.

“What? You look adorable. I’m sure the fan that sent this would love to see a picture of you wearing it.” Viktor scrolls through the photos and picks the best one out, posting it to Instagram and tagging it #croptopyuuri and #katsudamn.

“You’re not going to wear that thing out on the rink, are you?” Yurio asks.

“Of course not,” Yuuri says, and starts to change back into his long-sleeved shirt, much to Viktor’s dismay.

By the time they finish training for the day the picture’s gone viral.

 

* * *

 

Less than a week later Yuuri gets another package. This time it’s a sleeveless Nike hoodie that’s been hemmed to crop top length. Viktor convinces Yuuri to model it for another picture, and again it becomes hugely popular.

After that it’s like the floodgates open. Every few days a new package comes in, with a different crop top for Yuuri. Some are hand-made and decorated, some are off-the-rack, some are longer shirts that have been altered. There’s crop tops with words on them, like “Hot Stuff” and “Fresh” (and one that says “Property of Viktor”), some with rather suggestive slogans, and several with katsudon-related puns (Yuuri’s fans are all familiar with his favorite food). There are sweater crop tops, hoodie crop tops, crop tops with lace edging, crop tops with keyhole backs (and one really adorable one with a heart-shaped cut out in front that shows off Yuuri’s cleavage). Skin-tight crop tops that leave nothing to the imagination, tops with plunging necklines, loose-fitting ones that fall off Yuuri’s shoulders in the most delightful way. Yuuri models all of them and Viktor takes and uploads the pictures (“It’s for your fans, Yuuri! Think of your fans!” Viktor says. “Uh huh, right,” Yuuri says.)

(Yuuri panics when one arrives that has the slogan “Self-care is Drinking Sixteen Glasses of Champagne” on it because that story shouldn’t be publicly known, until he notices that the postmark is from Switzerland and the return address says “C. Giacometti.”)

Soon there are more than Yuuri knows what to do with, so after he wears them for the camera he gives them away to the other skaters. Mila immediately claims a hot pink one with “I Woke Up Like This” on the front (“It’s my favorite color!”), Georgi takes a lacy one (“For my new girlfriend,” he says), and even Lilia picks out a form-fitting high-necked top (Viktor’s not sure he’s ever seen Yakov actually blush before). Yuuri packs up a few to send to Hasetsu for Yuuko and Mari. There’s also a leopard print one that goes suspiciously missing (Viktor asks Yurio about it but he claims to have  _ no idea _ ). Viktor picks the “I ❤ Katsudon” one for himself. But most of the shirts stay with Yuuri, and that’s where Viktor’s problems begin. Because Yuuri starts wearing them.

At first it’s just at home. Yuuri picks up on how much Viktor enjoys seeing him in the crop tops, so one day Viktor walks into their bedroom to find Yuuri posing seductively on the bed, wearing nothing but one of the skimpiest tops and a pair of boxer briefs (the briefs get taken off quickly, but the crop top stays on). Soon Yuuri’s just wearing them casually around the apartment (“They’re actually really comfortable,” he says.) Viktor definitely appreciates seeing this new side of Yuuri.

But then warm weather arrives, and Yuuri starts wearing crop tops outside. While he’s out running. Or walking Makkachin. Or on the way to the rink. Or while skating (“I guess Mila had the right idea all this time!”). And Viktor thinks he really can’t take much more of this. Because every time he looks at Yuuri, all he can think about is all that exposed skin, and how much he wants to get his hands on it. Viktor’s pretty sure that spending so much time in a state of half-arousal can’t be good for a man. Not to mention that Yuuri is  _ very _ distracting dressed like that. Viktor’s lost count of how many times he’s stubbed his toes or walked into a wall or tripped on the ice when Yuuri goes by.

 

* * *

 

Viktor finally reaches his breaking point one day at the rink. He’s out on the ice, working on the choreography for his next free skate program. He looks up to see Georgi and Mila snickering at each other; they seem to be sharing some kind of inside joke. Yurio’s leaning against the wall near them looking grumpy (but he looks grumpy most of the time anyway). Viktor skates by and gives them a look, which only makes them laugh harder. He shrugs and goes back to his footwork.

That’s when the music starts. Very familiar music. It’s “On Love: Eros”, in fact. Which is odd, because that’s Yuuri’s old short program. He should be working on his new one, the one Viktor just finished choreographing for him. He looks around, and there’s Yuuri, in the starting position of his old program, and–

Oh. Oh, what he’s wearing. It’s a version of the Eros costume, except reimagined as a crop top. A very skimpy one, velvet and mesh and satin and crystals on the shoulder. It’s paired with some extremely tight black velvet booty shorts (there’s definitely cheek showing below the hem) and thigh-high fishnet stockings. Viktor suddenly feels very warm.

Then Yuuri starts to skate, and Viktor’s pretty sure he’s going to die right then and there, R.I.P. Viktor, it’s been nice knowing you. It’s far more erotic and over the top than Yuuri’s ever skated before; he licks his lips and runs his hands over his body, his hips swaying to the music. Viktor forgets how to breathe.

Or how to stay upright, apparently, because the next thing he knows his knees hit the ice. Hard. Yuuri’s rushing towards him, Eros program forgotten.

“Viktor! Viktor, oh my god are you okay?” (Yuuri’s supposed to call him Vitya, but he forgets sometimes when he’s startled.) “Viktor!” Yuuri repeats.

Viktor just looks helplessly at Yuuri, wondering what he did to deserve this amazing, wonderful, ridiculous man. He takes a deep breath and then suddenly he’s laughing. Laughing so hard tears are running down his face. Yuuri’s expression changes from worry, to relief, and then he’s laughing too. Viktor grabs Yuuri by the waist and pulls him down and they tumble across the ice. Yuuri yelps when his bare thighs come in contact with the cold surface. “Ah–ah! Careful, I’m not wearing much!” he gasps.

“I noticed,” Viktor says, and then he tickles Yuuri. Yuuri shrieks with laughter.

Eventually they calm down enough to help each other up and skate to the side of the rink arm in arm. Mila and Georgi are still howling with laughter, and even though Yurio tries to maintain his trademark scowl he keeps breaking out in giggles.

Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Yuuri,” he says, “I love you but maybe it’s time for a new fashion trend, yes?”

Yuuri looks over to where Yakov is sitting slumped on one of the benches, his head in his hands. “I think you’re right,” Yuuri says.

Mila wipes her eyes. “But how are you going to get the fans to stop sending you crop tops?” she asks.

“We could post one more picture,” Yuuri says, “and then request that people donate to charity, instead.” He thinks for a moment. “Also maybe we could have an online auction to sell off the ones that are already here, and donate that money too.”

“That’s a really lovely idea,” Georgi says. Viktor agrees. He grabs his phone from a nearby bench, and Yuuri strikes a pose in his ridiculous costume.

“Perfect!” Viktor says as he snaps a picture.

 

* * *

 

Later that day they’re walking home from the rink hand-in-hand. “Yuuri, I hope you’re not planning on auctioning off all of the tops,” Viktor says.

“Eh? Oh, well yeah, I suppose we could keep a few.”

“Mmm, just for wearing around home, of course,” Viktor says with a wink. “Especially that spicy little number you had on today.”

Yuuri gives him a look, one eyebrow raised. “So you liked that, did you?” he says with a wicked smile.

Viktor laughs. “Yuuri, you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you’ll enjoy it the whole time.”

“You’re not wrong.”

(Later Viktor makes sure to send Phichit a thank-you card. After all, the whole thing really was his fault.)

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shout out to all of the awesome artists on tumblr for the inspiration for all of the crop tops. Keep drawing them, they're beautiful!
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out this awesome artwork of Yuuri in the Eros crop top outfit!](http://poikas.tumblr.com/post/160194797039/commission-for-rainyteawrites-and-their-fic-which)
> 
>  
> 
> Say hi to me on [tumblr](https://rainyteawrites.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
